


I Am Destroyer (I Am Lover)

by Dirty_Corza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Biting, M/M, Oral Fixation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started as an experiment, it didn't end as one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Destroyer (I Am Lover)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Random_Nexus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/gifts).



John shivered as he felt the long fingers tracing patterns on his back. "Are you sure this is for a case, Sherlock?" he asked, voice quivering with nerves as he felt a mouth following after, tongue tracing the edge of his scar. "It's for an experiment John, not for a case." There was a slight chuckle, and John could feel it as the hot breath ghosted over his skin. "A-an experiment about what?" he was panting now, eyes pressed tightly closed as he tried not to arch into the feel of Sherlock. 

"Stimuli, John. Surely you can tell that much at least?" The fingers left his skin for only a moment, to return to his skin with something cold and slick on their tips. John shuddered, unable to stop the image of it from invading his imagination, Sherlock, lips brushing over his skin as he drew on John with something cold and slick, that smelt so sweet it was making John's mouth water. "Stimuli? An experiment regarding my reactions to it?" He couldn't stop the slight   
bitterness in his voice. 

"No, John." Sherlock's tongue was beginning to follow the trail left by his fingers, cleansing his skin of whatever it had been he was using. "An experiment of my own. To the feel of your skin, the taste, the smell, the feel of caramel sauce as I spread it over you, and the way the taste changes as I lick it off. It's quite the heady experience, John." "Oh," John's breath caught in a gasp as the fingers and tongue focused on his scar once more, teasing his marred skin with fervor. 

"Scar tissue. Different texture, slightly, and though it shouldn't change much, the feel of it brings a whole new aspect to this. I could taste it for hours and never know how to categorize it." John groaned at the words, "I'd let you. Sherlock. Don't stop. Please." He felt the change as he spoke, the change in Sherlock's posture, the moment his actions changed from heady categorizing to a hunger for more. It blew him away, the feeling of Sherlock holding him there, needing him like this. 

He felt the rumble as Sherlock moaned into his skin, pressing closer, a chest now, silk shirt pressing against his bare back, hands moving to grip his hips as they were aligned with Sherlock's to allow his hard cock to be felt pressing against John's ass. "More," he gasped, "God, more!" and Sherlock's teeth were scraping against his skin, pressing hard into his scar, but harder still as they moved to his neck, biting, marking, owning him. "Yes, Sherlock. Oh god yes." 

"I want to mark you, John." the voice was shaking in his ear, quivering in time with every grind of hips against his arse. "I want to give you scars of my own, to taste. Each one would taste different, I bet. Just like the tattoo on your hip will taste different from your scar." His lips nipped and sucked along John's throat, leaving a host of marks, but none that would last more than a few days. "I want to do so much, John, but why should you let me? Some of the things I want to do..." 

"Could be dangerous?" John finished the statement for him, a light chuckle on his lips that morphed into a moan as Sherlock delivered another hard bite to his collar. Hands followed that bite, hands moving to the front of his trousers to gently tease his erection as Sherlock continued to press him down against the table. "Don't care. Never have, with you." he managed to get the words out between gasps at Sherlock's relentless attack on his body, alternating between marked skin and his scar. 

There was a growl behind him, something s animal he'd never expected to hear it from Sherlock. Especially not like this, bent over beneath him as he was rutted against and palmed and bit, and oh god, he had agreed to so much more. His hands gripped the side of the table tightly as he finally allowed himself to move against the lean body pressing into him. Thrusting forward into the massaging hands, and back against the hips and the delicious tease of a hard cock against his ass. 

"You want me to fuck you." the words were a statement, one tinged with heat and surprise. They were followed by a bite to his right shoulder, one hard enough Sherlock even broke skin, and John couldn't help the groan of approval at that. "You've never been with a man before, and you want me to be your first?" Sherlock's voice deepened to slow moving honey as he gently lapped at the wound. "I'd be rough with you John. You'd feel me for days, and you still want it? Amazing." 

John took a sharp, involuntary gasp as hands undid his trousers, Careful fingers pushed them down his hips, expertly bringing down his pants as well without allowing him any extra stimulation. To his cock, that is. As soon as his ass was properly bared, rough fingertips began to explore his skin, spreading his ass cheeks wide to expose him, to allow the still-clothed cock behind him to rub in closer, rough fabric pressing against him in a caricature of what was to come.

"Sherlock. Please." John's voice was pleading, full of desire, the words were enough to get Sherlock's mouth moving once more, biting down his spine, alternating gentle nips with harder bites, though he was careful to do anything that might damage the good doctor. Soon he was kneeling behind John, lips tasting new skin, categorizing the feel, the taste, and the sounds John made as Sherlock teased his ass cheeks with his mouth. Bruising bites followed by soothing kisses drew gasps and moans.

"This is where I'll mark you, John. Somewhere no one else will see. Somewhere only I have ever been." His kisses were less fervent as he spoke, calming into almost reverent open mouthed kisses over the forming bruises. "I could stay here all day, tasting your skin, teasing us both." Slowly, impossibly slowly it seemed to John, his mouth moved closer to his puckered hole that almost quivered in anticipation itself. One brief lick and he had to tighten his grip to avoid his knees buckling.

"So sensitive, and I can feel it..." the voice was a low rumble seeping through his skin and John could almost feel it as it traveled up his spine, sinking into him. And those lips, that tongue, so gentle against his entrance, coaxing it with soft presses. It was a brand new feeling, having anything touch him there, and it was like molten lava, flowing over him until he was consumed by it, until he could think of nothing but the slightly rough texture of the tongue against his virgin hole. 

At the first tentative breach, John cried out, a short, sharp cry of pleasure. Then the tongue was pressing deeper inside, until he could feel Sherlock's teeth pressed close there and the tongue inside him began to move. He could feel it, ghost caresses inside his body. It was exactly what he had hoped it would be, and yet it left him yearning for more that this soft muscle thrusting shallowly into him. It could only reach so far and he wanted more. Much more. 

Sherlock was taking his time, though. John could feel him as he pressed in closer, as he pulled slightly away, always there to tease, to devour. It was so much to feel he almost didn't notice one hand returning to his ass, fingers sticky once more with what his brain told him was the same caramel Sherlock had used before. The fingers were tracing around his hole, now, as the lips pressed softly against one of the more prominent bruises. "You taste delicious. I don't know if I can stop." 

Sherlock's tongue caressed the canvass of his ass as the sticky fingers teased at his entrance, caramel mixing with the saliva left there to press inside, and to drip down, slowly down, over his perineum to his balls. "So much of you to taste, John. and look at you, just begging for it, being devoured. You haven't had a girlfriend in months and yet you still shave down here. It's as if you were doing it for me, as an invitation to have my filthy, wicked way with you." 

Sherlock's tongue followed his gaze, gently caressing the soft skin, a groan coming from his lips as his tongue encountered the caramel. Instantly, his face was pressed closer, drawing them into his eager mouth, encasing them, for the moment at least, in a hot, wet heat. John whimpered at the feel of it, giving an almost sob when Sherlock let his lips relax enough for his teeth to gently scrape, just enough to remind John of what he was capable of, and to bring his body back from the brink.

"God, Sherlock. Please. I need, bloody christ, I need more. Anything you'll give me, just- please." John gasped as he spoke, trying to get enough air in his lungs, but Sherlock was gently sucking on his balls, and one of his teasing fingers was probing his hole, slipping inside slowly, carefully, and pressed in further as he removed John's scrotum from his lips. "How many times can I make you cum before I fuck you, how willing are you to let me use your body, I wonder?"

John bit his lip as the finger began to thrust, deep and slow, gentle with him, which he knew he ought to be grateful for, he knew what could happen if Sherlock wasn't gentle with him. He didn't want that gentle, though, he wanted Sherlock's promises, of a hard cock filling him, of Sherlock's hard cock filling him. "N-not today Sherlock. Another time, please yes. But need you. I need you now." He groaned, pressing back against the finger twisting inside him.

"So impatient John..." Sherlock kissed his bruised ass once again, ignoring the pleas as he slowly fingerfucked him. "If I take you now, It will be just as you are, and I wouldn't be gentle, and I'd probably injure you beyond what would be good for you. We can't risk that. I want you sore, but able to be fucked again tomorrow. Or sooner. So John. You will be patient and quiet while I prepare you for me, or do I need to gag you?" John cried out as the finger fucking him grazed his prostate.

The finger slowly withdrew from him then, replaced for a moment by a probing tongue, Sherlock cleaning the caramel from his entrance. "It seems you will need it. Bedroom, John. Mine. On your back on my bed. Now." He had stood as he spoke, and the last order was punctuated with a sharp slap against a bruised ass cheek. "Yes, sir." John spoke with as little lust as he could in the words as he pushed himself up, blush now tinging his cheeks, as he turned to where he could see Sherlock's face.

It was enough to stop John in his tracks, staring as he leaned back against the table, mouth open in the shock of meeting Sherlock's eyes. Focused on him, immensely focused, and burning with a passion none of his past lover's had ever had. With a slight gulp, he nodded, leaving his remaining clothing on the kitchen floor as he left the room, feet carrying him to Sherlock's bed with hardly any conscious thought on his part. With a deep breath, he lay down, eagerly awaiting Sherlock.

Sherlock took his time as John lay on his bed, every slight movement pressing another bruise into what seemed to be the only hard spot in existence on the mattress. Each sharp spike of pain brought another groan from his lips, another shot of lust down into the molten pool of heat in his groin. Finally, Sherlock appeared in the doorway, just in time to see John finally give in to the urge and wrap his hand around his hard, throbbing member, thumb grazing over his tip, smearing the precum.

"Impatient, John~" There was amusement in his tone, and something else, something dangerous that caused John to freeze like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, fingers still wrapped around his aching cock as he turned his head to look anxiously at Sherlock. He was relieved to see a smile there, mostly relieved. The devouring passion hadn't left those eyes, and John had a feeling he would get punished for this trespass on Sherlock's claimed domain. Even if it was his own cock.

"Hands above your head, wrists together, I'm sure you can figure out where this is going." John gulped as he positioned his arms, eyes watching as Sherlock revealed a pair of leather cuffs. The ones John had thought well hidden away in his room, the ones he had thought Sherlock didn't know about, couldn't know about. It would seem he had been wrong, but as Sherlock secured his hands to the headboard, he found he wasn't particularly disappointed to be finding that out. 

"Now isn't that better? A full buffet, laid out for me, and me alone." There was the slight sound of other things hitting the bed, light thumps that John ignored, not looking to see what they were, because Sherlock was licking his lips as he climbed onto the bed, straddling John's legs, clothed ass brushing against his erection. "How would you look, painted with my cum? How would you taste if my seed was mixed with your sweat. Important questions, John."

"Please, Sherlock..." "No. Not yet, John. They call me obsessive, and they are very right to do so. I want to taste you, and so I will." Long fingers drew John's attention down from pink lips as they unbuttoned his dark shirt to reveal pale skin, a torso of what could almost be marble. But the heavy breathing betrayed it's mortality, as the shirt was slipped from Sherlock's shoulders and the long fingers moved to their next quarry, the fastening of his trousers.

The pants weren't slipped far down Sherlock's slim hips, no, he didn't get up from his position to strip nude. Instead, he worked them down just enough to free his long, thick cock. His eyes locked with John's as he began to stroke, spreading precum over the tip with every thrust, obscene moans flowing from his lips. "Always answer the important questions first, John. That's how I've always worked. I can't wait to lick away my seed. And then, after I've fucked you, I'll lick away yours."

John was shaking beneath him as he watched Sherlock's hands, trying in vain to thrust his hips to rub against something, anything, to relieve the ache in his cock. "Please, Sherlock. I need~" "Shhh, John." His hand left his cock as he leaned forward, lips lightly brushing against the doctor's as his hands busied themselves with something else John couldn't see, something he didn't care to try and see when Sherlock was deepening the kiss and his hard cock was thrusting into John's stomach.

Sherlock withdrew from the kiss with a smirk on his face, one John didn't have time to study before he felt long fingers urging his mouth open, and slipping a ball gag between his lips. He moaned around it, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tasted caramel against his tongue. He whimpered around the plastic, wishing he could beg Sherlock for more, please, and it seemed his pleas were understood, because as soon as the gag was secured, Sherlock's lips met his once more.

The kiss was short lived. A brief meting of lips, the slightest tease of tongue, then Sherlock was pulling away, sitting up again, to John's momentary disappointment. The sight of Sherlock's head thrown back as he thrust into his fingers with abandon, the feel of the ass rocking against his own stiff member, John was glad he wasn't missing this, especially not the gasp of pleasure from those lips as he began to shoot his seed over John's abs, his chest, even some drops hitting his cheeks.

Sherlock was still for a moment, breathing deeply as he calmed himself. A short respite before he opened his eyes, and John saw them narrow in on every drop of seed. He licked his lips as he surveyed his prize, eyes drifting from drop to stripe to John's face. "So beautiful John. So edible, so markable." He leaned forward, carefully bracing his hands on either side of John so he didn't risk spreading the mess to himself. "You know what this means, don't you John? You're mine."

Soft lips followed rough tongue as Sherlock started on John's face. He thought that would be it, when he felt the light suction of Sherlock making sure he got all the cum from his face, but Sherlock managed to surprise him. His lips pressed against John's, dominating him as he gasped in surprise. He could taste it there, faintly on his tongue, the taste of Sherlock's seed. The idea of it made him groan into the kiss, imagining another time, with Sherlock's cock in his mouth.

"Maybe later." Sherlock murmured against his lips, pulling away slowly, reluctantly, "You make me want everything at once, John. I want to kiss you as I lick my cum from your chest, I want you to suck me off, I want to fuck you, I want you to ride me. But first things first. I had plans, and I intend to follow through with them." One last kiss to his cheek, and Sherlock's mouth was gone again, roaming down his chest, licking up his own cum, moaning with every bitter drop he tasted.

He was gentle at first, focused purely on tasting, on cleaning. It was relaxing for John, to feel such gentleness, as if this was an act of devotion, not the continuation of an experiment. Then came the rough slide of teeth over his skin, the feel of a soft yet purposeful bite to the scar, and he knew. For Sherlock, it had never really been an experiment, not really. He had just needed to give John a reason to let him do this, because it was devotion. Pure, complete devotion.

The bites turned rough as Sherlock moved from his scarred skin, biting, nipping, marring his torso in some pattern John didn't understand. But he didn't need to. Bound for his pleasure, all John needed to understand was that Sherlock needed this. It was a shocking realization, but one that just felt right. His own needs went unnoticed, and he just didn't care. Because this was Sherlock, and being his focus was far more intense than any simple sex he'd ever had before.

Sherlock was taking his time, but John didn't notice. Every bite, every nip, every gentle kiss was sending lines of pleasure up his spine. He didn't notice when Sherlock drew blood, or when his own muffled cries turned into near sobs. His body was outside his control. Everything about it was, and yet he could still feel it, as Sherlock's attentions moved lower, his orgasm threatening to overwhelm him. 

It didn't matter that his cock was still just sitting there, achingly hard. As Sherlock's teeth secured themselves in loose skin beneath his ribs, it took a force of will for John to fight it back. Teeth against his skin had never felt so good. He was keening with the pleasure of it by the time Sherlock's lips found his soft hips. "What is it that makes you so sensitive, John?" Words were followed by a gentle bite, "Why is it something as simple as this has you nearly cuming?"

"It isn't the pain." Another bite, "It isn't where I'm biting," Harder this time, followed by the softest of kisses. "It's just me, isn't it?" Sherlock's lips brushed against the base of his cock, and John found himself screaming into the gag with the effort of waiting, of holding off his orgasm, his control was weakening, though, much more of this, of Sherlock's touch, of his words, and it wouldn't matter how much he wanted to wait, John would find himself undone.

"Not yet, John." Sherlock's hands were there now, touching his heated skin, squeezing the base tightly, near the point of pain, and then there was something soft, yet firm being wrapped around it and oh god, John knew what it was without having to look down, though look he did. There, secured firmly around his cock and balls, was a leather cock ring. The one he always looked at online, and yet had never bought. It seemed someone else had.

"Beautiful, John." Sherlock whispered as he ran his teeth along the top edge of the leather, sharp pain that was something more, even against John's hard cock. "Simply stunning." Sherlock's voice was deep, as if he were fighting his own instincts, and perhaps he was, John thought, because the fervor with which Sherlock was biting his inner thighs hinted at the desire to bite somewhere else. John shuddered with the thought, he knew it was probably true. A dark part of him wanted it to be.

His thighs were being pushed wider apart, his hips maneuvered into the position Sherlock wanted. Sherlock's mouth never left his skin as his hands moved him, as they spread him out like a feast. Then his mouth stayed where it was, pressing reverent kisses to one knee while his fingers, now slick with lube, slid against his hole teasing him, devouring him with their light touches, the hints of what was to come. 

John was holding his breath when the first finger slipped in a long slow push to sheath it fully inside his tight cavity, punctuated by the smallest gasp of pleasure from Sherlock. Hearing that brought a whimper to John's lips, causing him to writhe around the finger, which in turn accidentally brushed against his prostate. That changed the whimper into a muffled scream, combined with the oh-so-reverent press of teeth against the tender underside of his knee.

"Oh John..." Sherlock's voice was soft, yet full of heat as his finger began to thrust in and out of him, slowly at first, then faster as John became even more responsive. Soon, another finger was pressing in, then another, too soon after that. But he couldn't bring himself to care. The slight pain of the stretch was a welcome distraction from the desire to cum. Then the fingers began to focus on tantalizing brushes against his prostate, and nothing mattered but the intense need for more.

His muffled shouts were punctuated by the tears on his cheeks as he tried to beg for more. He couldn't make the words he was saying make sense, not with the gag in his mouth, but he didn't care. He knew Sherlock would understand every hitch in his breathing, every cut off sob, every barely muffled scream. He even suspected Sherlock was only keeping up this delicious torture now to hear more of them, to categorize the sounds that were John Watson during sex.

Then Sherlock's pinky was slipping in as well, followed by his thumb, and oh god, John realized with a jolt that Sherlock was nearly fisting him, and he was letting it happen, no, he was encouraging it. It wasn't something as simple as "letting it happen", not when his hips were rocking back onto those long fingers that were penetrating him so deeply, not when his body was begging for more in ways far more clearly than words slurred around a gag.

Finally -no, too soon, it should be too soon, shouldn't it- the entire hand slipped inside, and his hols was clamped around Sherlock's wrist and God. It was too much, it wasn't enough. He could hardly breathe. It felt perfect -no, it didn't, it shouldn't- and not enough, even though it was not enough, not even close to what he really wanted. "Perfection, John. That's what you are." Sherlock's voice was soft in his ear, when had he moved? Did it really matter? Not really, but yes, so much.

Slowly, gently, John felt the hand being removed. It left him feeling so empty, and yet it was so good. Because that hand disappearing from his ass was going to lead to the thing he desperately wanted, he knew it was. As Sherlock's lips pressed reverent kisses along his neck and behind his ear, John knew what was coming next, and he was spreading his legs wider, eager for it, begging for it. "As you wish," Sherlock whispered as his lips brushed along the edge of the gag.

One long, slow push, and he was fully inside him. John could feel it all, the brush of balls against his ass, the smooth hips helping to spread him open even further, the hard cock pulsing inside him, the tell tale vibration against his perineum that was from a vibrating cock ring. Oh god, Sherlock was wearing a vibrating cock ring, and fucking John while wearing it. For a moment, John couldn't believe it. The evidence his senses were giving him had to be false. 

He'd never looked it up online, he'd never bought any porn of it, there had only been one time, in a video booth at the porn store, and no, Sherlock couldn't have known what it was John had watched in secret, could he? "No, John. This is from my fantasy, not yours." The words poured like fire over his skin, and John was trying to move, to make Sherlock thrust, do anything more than just sit buried so deeply inside of him. "Though I am glad we share a few fantasies."

If he could have spoken, he would have said something utterly predictable, like "I wouldn't mind sharing all your fantasies", so perhaps it was best he was gagged, that all he could do in response was turn his face to look into Sherlock's eyes, tilting his chin in an obvious invitation to kiss him. That brought a small laugh from Sherlock, along with the soft press of lips against his own, an the heavenly, tortuously slow pull and thrust of the hardness inside him.

It didn't take long to connect it, the slow, thoughtful way Sherlock was kissing him, sucking on his lips, running his tongue over the plastic between them, to the slow, careful thrust of hips, almost exploratory in how methodically he was angling the thrusts, rolling his hips, experimenting with how deep he could get, or perhaps something else. Then came the first thrust that met his prostate, and the soft kiss to his bottom lip was instantly a bite as he gasped in surprise. 

The movement was repeated, once, twice at the same slow speed, before Sherlock gained confidence, or so it seemed, nipping along John's jaw as the thrusts sped up. Deep, powerful thrusts, each one bringing another, louder choked gasp of pleasure from John's lips. And each was followed by another bite, or nip, or simply Sherlock sucking at some spot on his neck. Tomorrow, he would have more than a hickey, John knew, he would have a neck covered in them, and wasn't that a blessed thought.

Sherlock was panting against his neck, and John himself was finding it hard to breathe -harder, yes, harder was good-. Sherlock's fingers were pressing harder into his hips, more bruises he's have, along with the bite marks, and everything was harder -so delicious, this harder theme, he could die happy like this-, the thrusts, the bites, the grip. Not to mention holding back his orgasm, even with the cock ring, it was a need, one that would be fulfilled, leather strap or no.

"Yes John. Now, right fucking now." The words were a growl against his neck, and John was helpless to obey them, cuming so hard his eyes rolled back in his head. He wasn't sure how he managed it, no stimulation on his cock since the leather had been secured, and it was beyond words, feeling his ass clench around Sherlock's prick, feeling those sharp hips press against him as Sherlock cried out, cuming as well, teeth pressed into the bite on his shoulder, reopening the hour-old wound.

Sherlock collapsed on top of him, just panting for a moment before one hand released its death grip on John's thigh to turn off the vibrator. "Oversensitive describes it poorly, but dear lord, that was worth it." He sounded exhausted now, which was good, because that was how John felt, he wasn't up for anything more, not now, not yet. He just wanted to lay like this for a while, perhaps to fall asleep and wake up stuck together, with an ache in his arms and shoulder -and mouth-.

Sherlock gave a short laugh against John's skin. "No. Not that, not yet. Another time. You'll be sore enough in the morning without all this." He kissed John's cheek gently as his fingers undid the cock ring before moving to undo the gag and finally remove the cuffs. Once John's hands were free, he removed the gag completely, locking lips as soon as the plastic was out of the way. John hummed happily into the kiss, arms relaxing as they gently wrapped around Sherlock.

Sherlock pulled away for a moment -too long, really, far too long- just long enough to remove the plastic ring that was around his own cock. "I suppose some things will have to wait until another time..." He nuzzled against John, all urgency melted away from his actions. "Another time, I'll see how your cum tastes on your chest, how my seed tastes mixed with the flavor of your ass. But now, now it's time to sleep." 

John nodded his agreement, placing a soft kiss to the top of Sherlock's head, breathing in the scent of his hair. "Yes. Sleep is a good plan. And more of this. Much more."


End file.
